


Dying is Easy

by spikesgirl58



Series: Working Stiffs [16]
Category: Man from Uncle - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-24
Updated: 2013-03-24
Packaged: 2017-12-06 09:28:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/734139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikesgirl58/pseuds/spikesgirl58
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not even a dead UNCLE agent catches a break around UNCLE HQ when he's literally a working stiff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dying is Easy

I remember hearing once that dying was the biggest thrill of all, that’s why it’s left for last.  Let me tell you, dying isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.  Some folks, they probably had an easier go of it than I did. THRUSH got hold of me and tortured me, did things that should never be done to another human being, but they didn’t kill me. They didn’t have to.  Dehydration and infection did that.  Even after I was rescued, it was too late.  I died on the helicopter ride home, feeling my partner holding my hand, hearing his voice urging me to hold on just a little while longer.  I wanted to, but in the end, it wasn’t my call.

Oh, sorry, I should introduce myself. Being dead, doesn’t mean you have a license to be rude, as my Granny used to say.   My name is Kenneth Beauregard Justice the Third and I’m an U.N.C.L.E. agent… I mean, I was an U.N.C.L.E. agent, now I’m just one of many spirits wandering the corridors of U.N.C.L.E. HQ, trying to replay their glory days until they hit just the right button to secure their release to the next level.  Sort of like being called up by the Almighty Section One, Number One.

It would be easier if They would tell us what we were looking for, but they are scant with their information.  It’s like the very worst scenario for a mission – go in and find out what THRUSH is doing and stop it.  Now that I think about it, it’s a little like my last mission.

I’ve watched agents come and go; most of the agents are strangers to me now, foreign and unfamiliar.  Just a few of the old league left and is it wrong to be proud that one of them made it all the way up to the top of the chain?

I knew Napoleon was going places though, even back in the day.  A smart agent knew that and we all vied for a position as his partner.  Bad move though as Napoleon chewed through partners like a dog with a rawhide bone – those pieces that didn’t get spit out and left for someone to step on in the morning were eaten up.  Napoleon was hell on wheels, literally.  The few agents who actually lived through some of his adventures were the ones too stupid to deal with and Napoleon pushed them aside as soon as the opportunity presented itself.  It seemed he was destined to be alone – solo, like his name.

I did everything I could to make him notice me, select me as a partner, and he made it just as clear that he wasn’t interested.  I was stupid, I was young and I was angry.  I started badmouthing him to anyone who would listen and a bunch of folks who wouldn’t.  Napoleon just laughed everything away, as was his habit.  I know now just how much my words hurt him.

Then the Soviet agent came on board.  We were taking bets how long he’d last, not as Napoleon’s partner, but just as an agent in general.  He was skinny, broody, and as we later found out, too smart by half.  He was Solo’s match and more – pretty soon they were joined at the hip and I am afraid I started some pretty ugly rumors… again.

I mean, it just didn’t seem right – two men couldn’t be that close and it not be something else.  That was mostly due to the stupidity of youth and not having had a good partner.  When Sammy came along, I understood, but by then the rumors were too deeply embedded.   And I died never making peace with either Solo or Kuryakin.  I was a short sighted, bigoted dope and I’m guessing it’s part of the reason I’m still here.  I watched Sammy request reassignment to another Section after he lost me.  He was convinced it was his fault.  It wasn’t of course, and I tried to tell him that, even as the last little bit of life ebbed out of me.  And I loved him more than anyone I’d ever loved in my life and I never told him, terrified of what people would say.

                                                                                ****

Okay, so now you know U.N.C.L.E. HQ’s little secret-- it’s haunted--  and we do what we have to do to keep things safe for those of us still fortunate enough to be alive.

“Looks like your boys are going out.”  Mackey was a big brute of a guy in real life.  His philosophy was to just keep hitting until they went down – mass over mind, I guess.  Never saw the tiny little bullet that chewed through his head.  Front is okay, but the back of his head is a mess.  He wears a cap that hides most of it.

“Are they?”  I willed myself to Napoleon’s side and watched him as he cocked his head as if he knew there was something there, but his eyes told him differently.  He’d mentioned it to Kuryakin, calling me his guardian angel.  Kuryakin, being the good Soviet atheist, he’d suggested something a bit ruder – he’s funny that way.  I figured that I was attached to Napoleon to try to correct some wrong from my past.  Of course, they never tell you what the wrong is…dumb asses.

“What’s wrong?”  Kuryakin was asking.

“Nothing, just… nothing.”  He glanced around the corridor, looking straight at me.  Me, being the biggest goofball around, waved.    For a moment, I swear I saw him raise his hand, but then he checked his movement and itched his nose instead.  “Are we all ready to go with this?”

“Our scouting parties have indicated that THRUSH is active and they are poised on the brink of something big.”

“Aren’t they always?  I mean, why take over the world?  Could you imagine the logistics alone?”  Napoleon shook his head.  “And I’d hate to sit through THAT staff meeting.”

Kuryakin has the sense of humor of a dead turtle.  He just shook his head and led the way to the agent’s exit as Napoleon rambled on.  That’s as far as I can go.  I’m bound to HQ and that’s sort of one of the worst parts of being a ghost.  I get so bored of these corridors.  I wish someone would do something with them…

Time isn’t the same for us as it is for you.  An hour for you is a mere second to us.  Good thing, too, or we’d be really bored!  That was a joke.  Anyhow, with Napoleon gone, there wasn’t much to do.  I checked out the women’s locker room, just to ogle the talent.  Nice, and again with the frustration.  No sex in the afterlife… not even with another obliging ghost. 

I was doing my best to bother one of the more nervous secretaries when I saw HIM.  Okay, maybe the caps are a mistake, but this spirit is seriously scary.  Everyone has a name for him.  I call him The Harvester.  He hangs around Medical and relieves my fellow agents of their corporeal body when it’s time.  He just reaches in there and rips their soul from their body.   It isn’t always pleasant, especially if the body isn’t quite ready to let go.  This guy scares the crap out of me, out of everyone, actually.  He’s big, mean looking, and just not someone you want to have a few beers with.

That meant something was up in Medical.

I willed myself there and gasped when I saw Napoleon.  He was trotting beside a gurney, talking frantically to Kuryakin.  Now I knew who The Harvester had come for.  It was Kuryakin’s time.  I could see the edges of his body sort of shimmer, the sure sign that he was starting to waver between life and death.

The doctors and nurses were shouting directions as they guided the gurney through the corridors and into an operating room.  They held Napoleon back, and he stopped, although he wasn’t very happy about it.

For three hours, he sat in the waiting room, well, sat, paced, had furious discussions with himself, you know how it is.  I tried to calm him as best I could and, a time or two, Napoleon actually waved me away.

Then the doctors came in, grim faced and blood covered.  The Harvester was still hovering around, so I knew Kuryakin had made it through surgery, but one look to the surgeons’ faces told you the story. 

It took me awhile to find him; I’m not honed in on him as much as Napoleon.  His spirit had sat up from his prone body and was looking around, confused.   The Harvester was coming closer, his long scary fingers beckoning and teasing Kuryakin.

“Don’t listen to him, man,” I said, surprised that I had the courage to speak.  The Harvester looked at me, or at least I think he looked; the black-shrouded head turned in my direction and the words, “This is not your concern,” formed in my mind.

Boy, you could say that again.

Then Napoleon came in and I realized how bad it must be.  No priest to administer last rites, of course, as Kuryakin was a good Soviet.  Napoleon sat down and picked up Kuryakin’s hand.  He started to talk, softly at first, chiding the man, and I saw his spirit turn and look. 

“Listen to your partner, Illya,” I said.

“Leave,” The Harvester ordered, but I couldn’t.  I was hearing what Napoleon was saying, his regret, his sorrow, his love, and realized it was just like with me and Sammy.

“No!”

The Harvester looked at me and I fairly trembled in my ghostly shoes.  “This isn’t your fight.”

He reached for Kuryakin, who had pulled away.  It wasn’t fast enough and Kuryakin’s head jerked, fighting.  Believe me, it wasn’t a pretty sight, it never is.  I wanted to walk away, just let The Harvester do his job.  I mean, Kuryakin was as good as dead, wasn’t he?

“Don’t leave me Illya.  I love you,” I heard Napoleon choke and that was my turning point.  There was no way in hell that I was going to let him go through what Sammy did.

“I said, leave him alone!”  I pulled The Harvester off Kuryakin and situated myself between them.  I mean, what could he do to me, I was dead, I wasn’t going to get any deader… more dead… whatever.

Boy, was I an idiot!  The Harvester is not a nice thing to begin with, get him mad and it’s even worse, but I was determined and I was a trained agent.  My skills were still with me. It was if I was fresh out of Survival School.

Kuryakin watched me wrestle with this badass and I shot a look in his direction.  “What the hell are you looking at?  Get back where you belong!  Napoleon needs you!”

Well, this is getting long now and there’s nothing worse than a blow-by-blow, so let’s just say that in the end, I won.  Suddenly and abruptly, The Harvester was gone – I mean, really gone.  That was weird… I looked and Napoleon was talking to a now-conscious Kuryakin.   Granted all Kuryakin could do was blink, but I knew he was back where he belonged.

And now there’s this weird light-like thing I’ve never seen before.  I should go check that out…

 

 


End file.
